The Inner Workings Of Gotham City
by insomnolence
Summary: One-Shots of various characters living in said city. [Many feature our beloved Bruce.]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own nor profit from this show.**

 **Shoutout to TheAeacusProject for inspiring me to write some Gotham fanfics (they are amazing).**

* * *

The mask was... a symbol.

[And a hideaway.]

* * *

He was Bruce Wayne. Billionaire, socialite and esteemed citizen of Gotham City. He lived in a Manor, got all the beautiful girls and had a butler, who was a former S.A.S member.

He was also Batman. Vigilante.

Two so different personas, but both belonging to the same person.

Bruce wasn't one or the other; but then, sometimes he was.

He was Bruce Wayne at fundraisers, smiling politely at people, mingling, pretending to care about appearances; he was Bruce Wayne at Wayne Enterprises board meetings; he was Bruce Wayne when he brought home beautiful girls; he was Bruce Wayne, a troubled  
/young man, who'd lost too much, too soon.

He was Batman when he fought for justice; he was Batman every night he strapped on that suit and cape and mask and fought criminals; he was Batman, who, besides fighting crime, did nothing - _worried_ about nothing.

Because Batman did not have worries, besides what foes he was going to face next; he was not haunted by his parents' death, because he had no parents. He did not miss the one girl, he'd always loved, because she did not exist - not to Batman. To Bruce  
Wayne,yes, but not to Batman. And Batman's problems disappeared as soon as the mask was gone.

And maybe that's what Bruce loved about the mask; it did not just hide him from the world, but it also hid the world - Bruce Wayne's world - from him.

The mask was... a symbol.

And a hideaway.


	2. Chapter 2

There were two gun shots. A lot of blood. Pearls decorated the ground.

There was Jerome Valeska's blade resting closely to his throat, the sting of the sharp blade so vivid and cool.

There was Theo Galavan, choking the life out of him.

There was Indian Hill and Ed Nygma cackling into his ears as he succumbed to the, what he thought at the tine was deadly, gas.

There was death.

So much death.

There was also the possibility of death; less being dead, but more not having lived, more not having done, more not having _been_.

Bruce did not fear to die. He was not afraid of what would come next. And while he was not keen on dying either, he was not willing to say he did not welcome the thought of not living every now and then.

Yes, pain would seize his heart sometimes and leave him breathless. It would lodge itself deep inside his soul and twist his emotions until he felt as though he could go on no more. Some days he'd wake up and feel the sun's rays on his face and thinkof  
his mother's beautiful pure and clear laugh. Some days he would sit in his father's study and remember the times when it was still his father, not him, who inhabited the space.

Yes, some days, the ache was unbearable and indestructible.

But, there were other days.

Other days he would wake up and feel the warmth of the sun on his face and think of how Selina made him feel that same warmth deep in his chest. Other days he would sit in his - not his father's anymore - study and talk and argue and laugh with Alfred.

Some days were painful. Very so. But others - others were good.


	3. Chapter 3

There was determination. Concentration. It was as though all his thoughts had dissolved just to return as one concentrated beam aimed at Oswald Cobblepot's pale forehead.

There was anticipation. Patience. Stealth. Precision. The creeping closer to finally stab the person in the back.

He was impressed at how well contained and hidden his rage was.

Because that's all there was. Rage. There was no sadness, no doubt, no disappointment or betrayal. This was pure revenge. Because he was angry. So angry. His beautiful Isabella, gone with the mere cutting of brake lines.

All, because of Oswald's limerence; a raging psychopath with such a lack of people who cared for him and in turn such a lack of people for him to care for, that he naturally had clung to Ed with all he had when he had come around, because all that emotion in him had to go somewhere, didn't it?

Ed had never _really_ cared for Oswald. He had never hated him, might have even liked him, but no one he'd let himself feel bound to; Oswald was just a means to an end. An end that would hopefully give him what he wanted.

But, now...

Oh, what had Miss Keen so wonderfully said?

'Rich men want it, wise men know it, the poor all need it: love.'

Well, 'I am always around, but never seen.

I am often avoided, but you can't out run me.  
For I will come when your old and grey,  
Or maybe even the very next day.  
I will come with cold embrace,  
And give you rest with a chilled kiss on your face.  
I come in may forms of emotional state,  
Wether it's irony, love, laughter, or hate.  
I am everyone's finale fate.

What am I?

 _Death_.'


	4. Chapter 4

He never thought Harvey's betrayal would hurt quite as much as it did.

He knew this man; he knew his faults, his tendencies, his heart. But he also had been convinced that there were some lines he wasn't willing to cross as well, so what in all honesty did he really know about his partner?

Oh how it stung to realize that Harvey was not quite as immune to corruption as Jim thought he was.

But Jim could accept that.

He could make himself understand what led Harvey to act accordingly.

But who was he to act so high and mighty? Jim just felt- Well he supposed he just felt disappointed. He knew Harvey was no angel, no perfect man, but he was his partner, a man he had faced death and great dangers with, a man whom he trusted his life with. He supposed only his hopes had been disappointed.

But he could accept that.

And he had. He had swallowed his righteousness. Even when the whole licensing trouble began. Even when Penguin's men came.

But when had he looked into Harvey's eyes, begged him to trust him and not to storm into that abandoned courthouse-

It was enough.

Harvey had broken something fundamental in their bond, in their partnership, in their friendship.

An unspoken understanding, a trust that had connected them.

Jim wasn't sure they could fix it.


End file.
